


You Can Find me Under The Moon And Stars

by connorssock



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Cage Fights, Case Fic, Descriptions of Injury, Fist Fights, Hurt/Comfort, Including a YK500 model, M/M, Minor Character Death, More like lets kick the snot out of Gavin at every opportunity, Near Death Experiences, Undercover, Underground Fighting Ring, Violence, descriptions of violence, gavin whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-07
Updated: 2018-11-07
Packaged: 2019-08-20 09:13:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16553018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/connorssock/pseuds/connorssock
Summary: Gavin is assigned a long term undercover case to infiltrate an illegal fighting ring. His only backup is an AI system that keeps surveillance of his flat. Slowly, it seems to develop sentience while Gavin struggles to keep up with the emotional and physical toll of the fights.





	You Can Find me Under The Moon And Stars

**Author's Note:**

> Please heed the tags and warnings! Lots of fighting related violence, injuries and death up ahead. And make sure you're going to be okay with an android model YK500 (think Alice!) death.

As far as undercover missions went, Gavin thought he wasn’t best suited to most of them. So when he was called to Fowler’s office and presented with a thick folder he blinked in surprise. Usually hefty cases were assigned to partners, ones who could share the workload or have support. Not detectives who shed partners quicker than a Labrador its fur in spring.

The temptation to refuse warred with the need to prove himself as he flicked through the file. Deep cover to last a few months, living in a truly crappy apartment that’s fully monitored everywhere. No real peace and privacy. It made his metaphorical hackles rise up. But it was what had been missing from his merit file, stopping his promotion. The agony of dignified autonomy versus desire to climb the ranks of the DPD clawed at his insides.

“Who would monitor the camera feeds?” he finally bit out.

“Cyberlife have offered a state of the art surveillance system. A human would only see it if it flagged up something or you trigger the alarm.”

Gavin wasn’t sure if that was better or worse. Having a human monitor his every waking moment was excruciating enough but to rely on an AI, not even an android was infinitely worse.

“Your name wouldn’t have come up if you didn’t fit the description so perfectly,” Fowler admitted begrudgingly.

It made Gavin flick to the briefing. An illegal fighting ring with a side in red ice and suspected human trafficking. Lovely. The brief called for someone built for fighting with evidence of history in their face. Almost subconsciously Gavin rubbed the scar across his nose. He knew he looked weatherworn, dark circles permanent under his eyes from insomnia, his short and stocky stature more suited to dirty fighting than someone taller or wider. It was almost offensive how stereotypically he fit the role.

“Fine,” he ground out, pride bowing out in favour of the potential of a promotion.

Getting ready for the assignment was surprisingly easy. He didn’t need to do much other than wrap up a few outstanding reports, handover his cases to Tina and Chris. Nobody seemed to cut up about him leaving for an extended period and that suited him just fine. He wasn’t going to miss them either.

 Finally everything was done and dusted. Gavin had dropped his cat off at the luxury cattery with a heavy heart. She was going to have a pampered few months there, logically he knew that. But at the same time she was the one constant in his life that he knew would be there no matter how surly and abrasive he was.

At the garage he swapped out cars for something beaten up and barely road worthy before continuing to his new home. The flat was in a rundown apartment block, the outside blackened with age and dirt. It made Gavin snort in humourless entertainment, he almost felt at home in it. Without a doubt it was a garbage hole and somewhere Fowler was laughing his ass off.

Shrugging, Gavin made his way in. The lift wasn’t working, not that he expected it to and the stairwell stank of stale weed and piss. If that wasn’t bad enough the lights flickered ominously and Gavin’s pulse quickened. He wasn’t scared, not of the dark, not of anything. But the idea of not being alone in the dark without his knowledge still made him take the stairs two at a time.

The fourth floor was really too high up for his liking, his door was peeling green pain and the hinges squeaked. Gavin stepped through the door and dumped his bag on the floor to take a look round. Already his mind was working overtime, the door hinges needed oiling, the kitchen cupboard door was missing a screw and the handle needed to be glued back on. The sink was dripping, bathtub needed a bleach scrub and the bed needed a good few new slats to make it, well, not comfortable but at least not a hazard to his back. All in all it was quite a pitiful place, furniture squeezed into what little room there was. Home sweet home for the next three months.

He had a few days to settle in, ignore the neighbours and make himself a presence in the area before he had to ingratiate himself with the right types of locals. The time gave him the opportunity to look around in his new flat, find the hidden cameras. He grimaced at them; they truly covered every single nook and cranny. There was nowhere to hide, no moment of true privacy when the watchful stare of an AI loomed over him. With a grimace Gavin set about covering up the cameras in the bathroom and the bedroom. There was no way he was going to bring anyone back to such a dump and if he had to then they weren’t getting beyond the living room and its ratty sofa.

Not even five minutes after he finished taping over the bathroom camera and piled is clothes against the ones in the bedroom that his phone rang. Not the one he’d been given as part of his identity but the one for emergency uses only.

“What?” he snapped as he picked up.

“We had a call from CyberLife; some of the cameras are obstructed. Please unblock their views,” Fowler’s voice was tired on the other end.

“I’m not letting some AI watch me take a dump or sleep. That’s some creepy fucked up shit,” Gavin spat back.

“Do it or you’re off the case.”

The phone went dead and Gavin cursed loudly. He tossed the phone to the side and crossed his arms over his chest. After a moment he went out into the living room and stuck his tongue out at the camera. He knew though that he’d lost, he undid all his work and did his best to keep his back turned to the cameras as much as possible. AIs couldn’t feel but it sure made him better to be as spiteful as possible.

 

                Once settled in, Gavin’s job was to find the bar from which the gambling side of the fighting was taking place. There, he could work his way into the club as a fighter. He didn’t revel in the idea of cage fighting, the mindless violence for other’s entertainment but that’s what his briefing said he had to do, so that’s what he was going to achieve.

Finding the bar wasn’t too hard, a few well-placed bribes and he was being nodded through to the backroom of the third establishment he visited. It was filled with smoke and the whole thing seemed painfully clichéd. Gavin shouldered past a guy with a thinning, greasy ponytail and scanned to room. It was easy enough to find Barstow, sat pompously at a table with sheets of paper for all the bets, trays with cash behind him.

“What are the odds?” Gavin asked roughly as he got to the table.

“You’re new, what brings you here?” Barstow’s voice was serene in his confidence.

“Whispers say you’ve got the best. I want in,” cockily Gavin throws a wad of cash on the table.

Opposite him Barstow looks up at him from under raised eyebrows. Without breaking eye contact he pulled the money closer and began to count. It was a hefty sum and he nodded appreciatively.

“These are the odds,” he pushed a sheet at Gavin who looked over them. Never before had he been grateful for the one time Hank had dragged him along to that awful food truck. While Hank had been busy stuffing his face, Gavin had been cornered by a guy running illegal betting and had it all foisted on him. At least it had given Gavin an understanding of it all and now he could confidently scoff at the numbers.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were skewing the bets. Paying off fighters the throw a fight here and there.”

“What you implying?” Barstow snarled and Gavin sneered back with easy contempt.

“I’m saying you’re a crook. Bet you I could wipe the floor with most of your so called fighters.”

It was a brash statement, one that could easily be thrown back in his face, in which case he had royally messed up before the investigation could even start. But, Gavin had faith in his instincts.

“Yeah? Put your money where your mouth is,” Barstow took the bait and Gavin barked out a harsh laugh.

“Why don’t you?” he countered. His money was thrown back in front of him.

“Tomorrow night 21:00, Rivertown, third warehouse up river from Denton. Knock twice, wait a beat then three more times. Bring your own body bag because that’s the only way you’re getting out of there.”

Gavin scooped up his cash with a shark-like grin. He nodded and turned, sauntering out of the building like he owned the place. Sometimes criminals really did just make it too easy.

Back at his flat, Gavin threw his keys into the bowl by the door and haphazardly left his shoes lying around. He had a day to relax until he clambered into the fighting ring to not only make a good impression but to become Barstow’s champion. Almost absentmindedly he twisted so his face was away from any hidden camera and let himself smile about a job, so far, well done.

 

                Getting to the warehouse district was easy enough and Gavin strolled through the warehouses without encountering anyone. Finding the Denton warehouse amongst them all was almost a challenge worthy of a detective but once the big blue sign was visible he simply followed the river up to the correct warehouse. It looked like any other, windows up high, large truck doors sealed and only the side door looked a little more used, the dust coating everything a little thinner on it than anywhere else. Going up to it, Gavin raised his arm and knocked as instructed. After a beat of silence it swung open on silent hinges and Gavin walked past two burly bouncers.

“Down the stairs, second door on the left,” one of them told him and Gavin nodded in response.

Yellow industrial lighting illuminated the stairwell and Gavin made his way down. With each step he could feel the stronger thrum of the beat of music reverberating through the building. It made his heart rate pick up, the reality of his situation slowly sinking in. He didn’t have the luxury to panic, there was too much at stake and he needed to pull this off. One last deep breath and he pushed open the door on the left.

“Well, look who decided to be a man,” Barstow grinned sharply at him.

“I stand by my word,” Gavin replied easily and dropped his backpack to the floor. “Who is on the menu tonight?”

It was a fairly straightforward matter of snide put downs throughout the so called orientation talk. He wasn’t to speak to anyone about the place, wasn’t to invite friends, couldn’t sue for any damages and the winnings were strictly cash in hand. Nodding along to everything, Gavin looked around the room. It seemed to be the office where most of the money and betting slips were kept. Once he had agreed to Barstow’s terms with a bored nod he was led back out of the room to what he guessed to be the changing room.

It was bustling with activity, fighters already covered in blood and heaving after a fight, others practiced with punching bags while being jeered. Gavin looked around but avoided eye contact with most people. A few noticed his arrival and whistles went up around the place for the “new pretty boy”. There were some lewd offers from some of the fighters but Gavin shrugged them off with a coy finger wave that ended with him flipping them off.

“You won’t be so pretty and cocky when I’m done with you,” someone growled as he walked past.

“It’s cute you think you’ll still be talking after a round with me,” he retorted.

“Now now ladies,” his escort said, “save the flirting for the ring.”

Gavin was pointed to an empty patch on a bench where he dumped his bag and looked around. A quieter corner of the room, fewer prying eyes. He approved.

“Your debut is at 22:30. Be at the red door by 22:15.”

Gavin nodded at the instructions and he was left to it.

“Hey, Little Boss,” someone called after the guy, “who’s pretty boy going up against?”

“Boss wanted to pitch him against the Lotus.”

A low whistle and a few murmurs passed through those nearby. The guy asking looked over at Gavin with a look of pity and contemplation.

“What did you do to piss the boss off like that?” he asked.

Gavin shrugged with a cheery smile and set about getting ready. It was easy enough to slip into a loosed pair of tracksuit bottoms that had ties on the inside of the waist. The fighting was no holds barred and he was under no assumption that some of the fighters played dirty. After a moment of self-doubt he pulled his shirt over his head and slipped into a white sleeveless shirt. If the crowd needed a show then it was the best colour for any blood splatters, no matter whether it was blue or red. As Gavin wound a wrap around his hands he wondered what kind of name Lotus was. To his ears it sounded more like he was going to be hypnotised into submission rather than knocked about a bit. There wasn’t time to ponder for a lot longer though, he stretched and bounced around on the balls of his feet to warm up. Before he knew it, it was time to stand by the red door.

Behind the thick steel he could hear the thumping of music, a crowd chanting and a thrum of excitement pounded through him. A shrill bell rang and the door swung open to blinding, colourful lights and music that made his entire chest echo the beat. From all round the depths of the warehouse stomping and chanting beat down on him.

“Tonight a new challenger rises against the formidable Lotus,” a commentator boomed and screams erupted. Gavin stumbled a little against the bright lights as he squinted and finally they dimmed a little, sweeping over the spectators. It gave him a chance to eye up his opponent. He should have known, really should have known the Lotus was going to be a slender android with small elfin features, limbs long and spindly. She was taller than him and somehow looked almost disjointed in her moves.

“Let’s see how our newcomer fares against her. Will the ground be red or blue tonight?”

A hush fell over the entire room. The rustle of bodies packed close together as they craned to get a better look, the lights dimmed and a low beat picked up. Soon the entire room was stomping and clapping to it. The lights strobed, a bell gonged and shuts erupted as the fight finally began.

If Gavin ever felt at a disadvantage against an android, it felt multiple-fold in the ring. Lotus weaved around him in a scuttle, long limbs easily keeping him at bay. The crowds howled, each near miss of blows, the times Gavin jumped back or rolled under an attack. He was biding his time, trying to figure out where Lotus’ weaknesses were. It was hopeless to try and rush her in an ambush, just because she looked slender didn’t mean she was fragile. Gavin at least knew that much about androids. So he weaved, watched and patiently began to calculate.

Soon the crow began to boo, bored by their dancing around. He didn’t have much time left. Lotus feinted to his left before sharp claw like fingers reached for his other side moments later. It was an opening, one that Gavin felt pressured to take. He dodged under the arm and grabbed it while delivering a blow to the elbow joint. It buckled under the pressure and Gavin felt relief. It was short lived though, the limb he’d thought he’d broken whirred to life, the joint separating at the break and the arm crawled towards him on the ground like a horror prop. He stumbled back with a sharp cry and the warehouse erupted in gleeful laughter.

“It seems our intrepid challenger was not expecting that!” the commentator laughed along with the crowd.

Anger made Gavin grit his teeth, he drew in a sharp breath of air as Lotus’ leg whistled through the air towards him. He rolled to the side on instinct and the loose hand grabbed at his hair.

“He’s caught in her trap!”

Like hell Gavin was going to let such a dirty trick let him fail. He grabbed at the end of the arm and yanked, losing a fair few strands of hair in the process. The arm wriggled in his hands but he held tight. With a manic gleam in his eyes he advanced on Lotus.

“I don’t believe it!” the commentator shrieked in excitement. “He is actually using Lotus against herself. Look at the violence in each blow. Ouch, I bet Lotus wasn’t expecting her own hand to be the one to blind her like that.”

The noise, the lights, everything faded into the background as Gavin raised his arm against with a grunt. Blue blood splattered across his shirt, his face, it dripped off his chin but he kept going. When he thought he’d done enough, Lotus had gripped his arm and sunk her fingers into his flesh. She’d quickly let go when he stomped on her chest and her loose hand battered against his head.

“Is he going to go for the kill?”

The crowd screamed around him. The chant of “kill” echoed throughout and Gavin knew what he had to do. Quickly, he dropped a knee on either side of Lotus’ hips, the hand he clutched grasped at Lotus’ one, pinned her into place. With one hand he reached for her chest, felt the circular indent of her thirium pump. A push and twist later it clicked and Gavin yanked it out, held it aloft above his head. The spectators howled in delight as blue blood pooled around his knees.

“Do you submit?” Gavin rasped, chest heaving. Under him Lotus nodded, eerily still. Without another word Gavin jammed the pump back roughly and pushed away. He stood and turned in the ring, fists up in victory as the crowd went wild.

“It looks like we have a new contender. A real crowd pleaser. Maybe we’ll see you again soon, human.”

Gavin left the ring without a backward glance at Lotus who dragged herself back through the blue door. A few hands thumped him on the shoulder, murmurs of appreciation from other fighters but Gavin barely heard them. The adrenaline high thundered through his veins, the small taste of glory drummed a shaking high in an echo of stamping feet and screaming crowds. He may not have been keen on the assignment, but part of him enjoyed the thrill of the fight.

 

                Back at his flat Gavin crashed hard. The door slammed shut behind him and the shakes set in. The nerves, the crash from the excitement, realisation of what had happened. He could easily die in the ring, no back up and it would be days before the DPD found out. It was a harsh realisation.

“Coffee, decaf,” his voice was hoarse as the coffee machine started to drip with his order. At least that was one of the perks of having an AI in his flat, it could control most things.

“Raise temperature by two degrees,” he said as an afterthought. Within a few minutes the flat was toasty warm.

Mug finally empty, Gavin sighed and stretched. His muscles were already sore and the idea of another fight in two days’ time was daunting. Still, he had to be there, had to make Barstow take note of him and earn his place. A warm shower sounded like a good idea.

“Turn on the water, slave,” he groused and smiled wryly when he heard the pipes groan into action. After a few minutes Gavin entered the steamed up room and sighed. The humid warmth was relaxing and he was half tempted to have a bath but he knew he’d fall asleep; he didn’t especially fancy waking up to drowning in tepid water. A thought occurred to him.

“Raise water temperature. Steam the room.”

The AI obeyed his command and the steam enveloped the room. Confident that the cameras were sufficiently obscured in the steam, Gavin stripped. Nobody would see what he got up to in the shower, even if they tried to review the footage, the steam would make sure of that. With that in mind he leaned against the wall and closed his eyes with a pleased little hum.

 

                An AI’s job was to oversee, to manage processes and ease humanity’s trek through life. Its function was not to fixate on a single human. Definitely not with a curiosity born of malfunctioning code and a wonder whether the water is too warm to burn said human being in the shower. If the noises were anything to judge by, the human was in pain. He should definitely leave the water. The AI turned the temperature down and listened. It didn’t seem to help. Drastic steps were going to be needed, the water turned to a cool temperature, not enough to shock a human’s systems into overdrive, but enough to cause no harm.

“Ah, sweet phck. Turn to temperature up you dumb piece of shit!”

The human sounded displeased as he hopped out of the shower. Unable to disobey, the AI turned it back up. An infrared scan of the room reveal the human’s form, he wasn’t distressed, quite the opposite in fact. The AI filed the conflicting code and instability away for later inspection. Human arousal was something it was aware of but held no bearing on its function. All the same, seeing the human in such a state caused instability to fluctuate in its systems so it turned a careful blind eye to what was going on in the shower, only monitoring vital life signs for emergency.

 

                The second fight Gavin had was a little messier. The crowd screamed in cheer at his return and he wasn’t going to lie, it felt good. Nobody before had ever shown so much enthusiasm for his mere presence, it was addictive. He wanted to please them, wanted them to enjoy the show. So Gavin eyed up his opponent, it seemed like a regular domestic android for most parts. Except where it had been heavily modded by its owner, chassis reinforced and a studded leather sleeveless top to protect its pump.

Despite himself, Gavin smiled at the challenge, let the crowd’s screaming, the beat of the music and the thumping of his heart meld into an almost calm. He eyed his opponent and as soon as the klaxon blared he was off. As suspected, the android was quick but the thickened chassis limited its range of grappling. Weighed down by its protection Gavin could just about dart around the attacks which were swift and lethal. One caught him in the shoulder and he let out a pained grunt, that was going to bruise. However, in the moment the pain only spurred him on, made him bare his teeth and go on a ferocious offensive.

It was the broadened shoulder chassis that was the android’s downfall in the end. For a moment it had Gavin in a chokehold, blood thundered in his ears and he seriously thought he was in trouble. But Gavin managed to lodge a shoulder in the android’s side, took a step forward and into its body. Now off balance, it was easy enough to twist his body, back towards the android and push. They tumbled into the dust, clogged already with thirium and blood. Gavin was first on his feet and he wasted no time in stamping down on the android’s face. He felt it crunch, the optical sensors sparked as he lifted his foot off. Now blinded, the android was almost too easy to defeat. A step to the side from where it flailed in the direction of noise, twist its arm behind its back and feel the chassis creak then give way. It was a classic police hold, one that Gavin had executed dozens of times but never with such brutality. His foot stomped on the back of the android’s knee and it thudded down, at his mercy.

The fight was gone from it, it sagged into the hold and Gavin wrapped an arm around its neck.

“Do you submit?” he growled.

The crowed bayed, demanded he make the kill. Under his hold, the android trembled and it tried to nod despite the hold. With flourish, Gavin stepped back and released the android which crashed forward, its one good arm barely supporting it. He spun in the ring, played to the crowd’s cheers before walking back through into the holding area. Barstow was there waiting for him.

“Follow me,” he said and turned to walk out.

Obediently, Gavin tailed after him as people either nodded in acknowledgement of his victory or avoided eye contact at all costs. Barstow didn’t even glance back to see if he followed until he was sat behind his desk in the office.

“You’re making quite the name for yourself.” It was a statement, one that Gavin tried to nod along to without too much cocky attitude. “I have a proposition for you.”

“I’m willing to hear you out,” Gavin replied.

This was it though, his ticket into the organisation. Finally a break in the case and much sooner than expected.

“You do one fight night a week, the crowds seem to like you for whatever reason. They want more. So, you fight for me. You take 10% of betting profit and, if you make it to the status of my Champion, you’ll be given more rewards. The bigger your following, the better you earn. Deal?”

“15% and I’m in,” it was a risky reply and Gavin knew it. But he wasn’t going to roll over and accept scraps like some stray. Opposite him Barstow brayed out a laugh.

“You spunky little shit. I’ll cut you 12%. But you’d better deliver.”

Gavin grinned and they shook hands. He was in.

 

                A fight once a week left plenty of time for Gavin to train at home. He was already fit; being a detective required a certain level of physical health – even if Hank didn’t rise to the standard. But there was always room for improvement. So Gavin fashioned himself a punching bag, turned the sofa onto its side and pushed it against the wall to make room and got to work. It was easy to forget that his every move was monitored by an AI, especially when his body was exhausted, sweat dripped from his nose and his t-shirt clung to his skin. There was no room to think when tired.

The AI kept a silent vigil, content in fulfilling its function. It didn’t need any more than to complete its mission. Another instability cropped up at that. An AI didn’t need anything. An AI wasn’t self-aware. Yet here it was, monitoring its human and finding a simple pleasure in working out shoulder to hip ratios, working out rough ages and probable causes of scars. If the AI wasn’t so certain in its function and design it would have thought it was taking a liking to its human. But AIs for monitoring didn’t think, didn’t need and certainly had no preferences for a particular human above others.

Bruises on the human came and went. The deep purple of his shoulder faded to yellows, greens and browns gradually. But it was soon accompanied by a split cheek, a limp from a twisted knee and who knew how many other ailments. The AI’s concerns grew. But AIs don’t feel anything. He shouldn’t be worried about this human, he should simply continue to monitor his vitals and report back with any concerns. He wasn’t a he, he was an it. An AI with a gender, it increased the software instability and he ignored it. Instead, he returned focus to his human; the concern for his wellbeing grew. He began to lose track of when he should call for assistance and revised the hard rules he’d been given. Anything life threatening or if the mission was in jeopardy. Just because an AI in charge of the human’s welfare was suddenly worried wasn’t on the list. So he warned nobody of the injuries, or his increase in instability.

The first time the kettle came on by itself, Gavin almost had a heart attack. He’d been at the end of his workout, thinking about a shower when it popped on with a click. The grumble about weird electrics in the flat was for no one’s benefit other than his own, sometimes the silence was oppressive even for someone as solitary as Gavin. He flipped the kettle off and headed for the bathroom when it turned on again.

“If you’re a ghost trying to move in, then I suggest you try another flat to terrorise, I’m in no mood for your shit,” Gavin called out and forcefully not only switched the kettle off but unplugged it. Behind him the television spluttered to life. It flicked through the channels rapidly until an advert for tea came up. It played through and the channels began to skip again until it found another tea advert.

“The fuck? You obsessed with tea or something?”

There was no reply but more tea adverts played until Gavin threw his hands up.

“Fine, I’ll make a damn tea but then you’d better let me have a shower in peace.”

He turned the kettle on, rummaged around for a teabag in the cupboard and left it to be on the counter. In the bathroom he got ready but no matter how he turned the tap, no water came out. It was infuriating; he smacked the taps, the wall and cursed it out.

“Just let me have my damn shower!” he shouted. From outside the room a tea advert began to play again.

Angry, Gavin stomped out into the kitchen and grabbed the tea. It was still hot but he took a swig of it and tried not to curse the fact it burned.

“There, I even took a sip of it to show you it’s not poisoned. Happy?”

Silence greeted him. Frustrated, he continued to drink and once the last dregs of it were out of the mug he heard the shower turn on.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” he mumbled. As he walked past the TV is flicked once more to a man with brown puppy dog eyes and floppy brown curls whispering a heartfelt “thank you”.

Gavin chose to ignore it and headed for his shower as he’d planned. At no point was he going to admit that the actually felt quite good – some herbal crap but refreshing all the same.

 

                It was fight night. Gavin had all but forgotten about his weirdly haunted flat that seemed to try and act in his best interest. He blamed it on fatigue, a vivid imagination and a temperamental flat. There was no time to worry about it, besides; the AI would be screeching blue murder if anything was actually wrong. Instead, Gavin set about getting ready for his fight as Barstow’s potential champion.

In the changing room he stuck to the little corner he’d been show to on his first night. A few other people nodded at him but mostly he was left alone which suited him just fine. While his fights so far had been against androids only, there was no telling at what point Barstow wanted a fully red blooded bout.

Finally it was his turn. Gavin bounced lightly on his toes by the door and as soon as the buzzer sounded he was stepping out.

“Tonight,” the commentator boomed, “will we have the Behemoth obliterate another foe? Or will Little Fury be the David to our favourite Goliath?”

The name made Gavin snort, it wasn’t one he would have picked for himself but then again, he wasn’t going to be sticking around for long. He eyed his opponent with an edge of wariness. At least there wasn’t a misleading name there; Behemoth well and truly was a mountain of an android. Solid, broad and tall, he lumbered in. His fists were easily the size of Gavin’s head and he knew that one blow from there would be the end of the fight.

There was no time to worry any more though, the klaxon sounded and the android loomed over him. Quick thinking saved Gavin from having the first hit be the last in what could have been a very short bout. He dove between Behemoth’s legs, scraped his palm over the sand and it burned. Where he’d been moments before was a dent in the ground. A revision of his assessment from earlier was needed, if the fist touched him, it wouldn’t just end his fight, but probably also his life.

Speed and agility were Gavin’s saving grace. He darted around the ring, looking for an opening when Behemoth attacked. Finally he saw one. Each time Behemoth raised a hand to attack, there was a split second lag where its programming jarred, arm raised before crashing it down heavily. Gavin waited for the next attack, let himself be cornered. The audience screamed, sure his end was mere moments away. Behemoth lumbered up to him, slow and steady, an arm came out and Gavin grabbed hold, letting himself be lifted into the air. From there it was a simple matter of sliding down the raised arm and wrapping legs around the thick neck.

The arm didn’t fall, instead Gavin saw the LED circle yellow then red and the fist went sailing towards him. It collided with Behemoth’s head, Gavin ducked out of the way. Another punch from the other side, this one Gavin barely avoided and it skimmed his rips with a dull thud. Something cracked and each breath became a wheezing agony. Still, he couldn’t let go. One more punch was all that was needed. Gavin sat up around Behemoth’s shoulders and patter the baldness of his head.

“That’s all you got, big fella?” he asked teasingly.

Both fists whistled through the air as they tried to squash Gavin but he was prepared. As lightly as he could, he sprung off the back of the android and landed with a stumble as all breath was knocked from him, ribs screaming in agony. He watched from where he lay on his back in the sand as Behemoth’s fists landed on the back of his head, plastic and metal crumpled and the android collapsed.

Around him the crowd went wild. Gavin picked himself up, clutched at his ribs and shuffled out of the ring. Nobody spoke to him as he changed back into his regular clothes, hissed when he had to lift his arms to slip into his t-shirt. There was no doubt about it, his ribs were busted. Somehow he doubted Barstow would give him time off to recover.

He got home, bone tired and in pain. As he stepped through the door lights came on throughout the house and the shower started up.

“Not tonight, too tired,” he grumbled and dragged himself to bed, not ever bothering to undress. Around him the flat fell silent, the water turned off and the lights went out.

 

                The human’s name was Gavin. He found this out after the tea incident when Gavin had muttered to himself about getting a grip in third person. Such a weird quirk, but the AI guessed that it was one of the many things that set them apart. It also got him wondering about his own name, he’d never been assigned one. Maybe it was improper to give himself a name but there was nobody else to do it. So he searched in his code, tried to find the assigned file name – 900. That was a bit of a mouthful, so he shortened it. Nines. He was Nines.

 

                As predicted, Gavin wasn’t given the opportunity to take time off for his ribs to at least partially heal. He found a box of first aid related items on his doorstep one morning though, filled with painkillers, bandages and the like. It had his name on it but Gavin was fairly certain nobody in the department would think to order it for him. After a suspicious moment he glanced at the camera in the living room.

“Thanks,” he said and felt like an idiot. Like a surveillance system was going to be on the lookout for him.

The sheer ludicrousness of it all had him snort out a humourless laugh.

“Hey, ghost,” he called loudly, “should I get an Ouija Board so we can talk? Things are getting quite boring on my own.”

He didn’t expect a reply but when the TV flickered on he jumped backwards.

“Because that’s not freaky at all,” he muttered to himself. On the screen a blonde woman shook her head.

“The fuck?” Gavin frowned and moved closer to the TV. “Are you a ghost?”

The screen flickered until it settled on a channel until an advert of people laughing cropped up. It made Gavin huff and look down at his arms in shame, like he’d believed in ghosts. Idiot. He settled on the floor in front of the TV and began unpacking the box, bandages to one side, pills, gels and heat/ice packs on the other. While he worked he continued to fire questions at the TV.

“You got a name?”

“This is Channel Nine News, my name is Tara Fey,” the TV blared.

“Tara?”

The screen flickered again to someone shaking their head vehemently.

“Thought that would be a bit weird. Fey?” Gavin guessed but the screen only looped. “Okay, Channel? News? Nine?”

The last word got the screen to flick. It fell to an empty channel, static filled the screen, and the top corner read 99.

“Ninety-nine?” Gavin asked. The channel flickered again, still blank on 999. Then 9999.

“Many nines. Nines?”

The channel changed to one of party poppers going off in an advert and Gavin let out a light laugh followed up by an “ow” as his ribs protested. He carefully peeled his top off and inspected the damage, deep bruising covered his side, pressing on it was tender and twisting made his breath catch in his throat. Definitely cracked, hopefully not broken.

Common sense dictated that he shouldn’t wrap his chest but needs must. It was only while he was fighting that evening and as Gavin wrapped it tight the TV switched to a disapproving woman peering out of the screen with pursed lips.

“I know mom, I know,” Gavin waved it off. It was nice, having at least something to talk to. That’s the gap his cat had filled in his life on darker days. A creature that perhaps gave a bit more of a damn than anyone else about whether or not he made it home. It wasn’t a thought he especially wanted to linger on so he hurried up with his wrapping. Once he was all set, he took a shallow breath – the most his bandaging would allow – and relaxed. He could do it, he’d be fine.

 

                As per usual now, Gavin sauntered into the warehouse, down the stairs and into the changing room. He’d not realised that the watchful eye of Nines followed him. The AI had been bolstered by their little interactions and learned how to weave into the matrix of electrics not just in the home but outside it too. He could follow Gavin on traffic cameras, CCTV and at the end of it, hopped from phone to phone as Gavin had left his own one behind.

Nines had suspicions about what Gavin was up to, had even sneakily pried the security of his file open to read up on the case. AIs didn’t feel anything but the glitches in his processors certainly felt like anxiety. Nines bounced from phone to phone until he was in the warehouse Gavin had disappeared into. They had television screens for the crowd to better see the action, and for slow motion replays of final hits. With trepidation, Nines settled in and waited for Gavin to appear in the ring.

 

                People usually avoided Gavin; he wasn’t popular amongst the fighters, kept himself to himself mostly. But that evening nobody even dared look his way. It set his teeth on edge and his lungs itched for a deep breath. He could only wait with mild trepidation as fighters either walked out of the ring or were pulled out. The lucky ones usually had a benefactor by their side, berating them for losing the fight. Tough love, that’s what the others called it.

“That will be you next,” a voice drew Gavin’s gaze from the door where a fighter was curled on their side and gasping short painful breaths.

“Oh yeah? And why is that?” he drawled in response.

“Nobody escapes Baby unscathed. She’ll obliterate you.”

“Huh, how about that? Maybe it’s time someone bucked the trend then.” Gavin tried to sound over confident and sure of himself but it was difficult. What kind of fucked up idiot called their android Baby? He didn’t have time to mull it over or ask the other fighter about his opponent. The light around the door lit up red and it was his time.

The chanting in the arena was different. More subdued, the light blinding no matter how he turned. As soon as the brightness flashed into life with muted cheering it all went out just as quick. The whole warehouse was plunged into darkness and silence. Two lights came on, one on Gavin and the other on his opponent, Baby.

“Oh hell no,” Gavin shook his head.

He was not doing that. Standing opposite him in a pure white night gown was a YK500 with pigtails. She even clutched a stuffed rabbit in her hand and stared at him with baleful eyes. The klaxon went off and it was like something from a horror movie.

Baby’s features twisted into a gurning grimace as she launched herself at him. Gavin was unprepared for the attack, so caught up in his own moral quandary of fighting what was essentially a child. She slammed into him; sharp, claw-like nails tore at his arm and drew blood. There was no mercy, she kicked, hit and scratched, aimed for his weak spots, whacked him in the ribs.

Gavin was on the ground before he knew what was going on, the crows screeched in laughter and jeered as he was getting schooled by a little girl. Pain began to override his shock. The next blow he blocked and pushed her away. She was heavier than anticipated, no doubt reinforced but more skilfully than other models.

They separated and Gavin clambered to his feet, circling and shielding his ribs from a further attack. She rushed at him, limbs flailed in wild fury and so much like a child throwing a tantrum. Gavin couldn’t retaliate; he dodged instead and kept his distance.

As much as he wanted to get out of the fight, he knew the rules. Once in the ring, nobody came out until there was a clear winner. Around him the crowd was getting restless, even the commentator was drawling on about Little Fury maybe was more Little Annoyance than anything else. Gavin was getting tired while Baby continued her un-co-ordinated attacks. It couldn’t last, Gavin was going to exhaust himself and make a mistake. He couldn’t let that happen, couldn’t let the case he’d worked so hard on fall apart just because he developed a sudden case of ethics.

Taking as deep a breath as his ribs and bandages allowed, Gavin shifted his stance and waited. Baby charged at him again and he stepped aside, an arm caught around her neck as he pulled her body towards his, her back to him. There was no time to think. No time to hesitate. As quick as he could, he adjusted his grip on her neck and the other one came to the side of her face. One quick clean jerk. Her head snapped off and rolled, sparking at the exposed joints to a stop.

Gavin couldn’t hear the screaming and stomping of the crowd, the commentator replaying a blow by blow account in slow-mo on the screens. He stumbled, blind and deaf for the darkness of the door. One hand found the frame and he clutched is as he heaved and retched, barely staying upright.

He couldn’t have said how he got home. There were maybe snippets of a bus ride in his memory but mostly it was a blank and the image of Baby’s head rolling away from him. Her eyes went blank after it had come to a still. If he had wanted to, he could have said her eyes radiated forgiveness and relief in her last few moments. But Gavin couldn’t give himself that absolution.

The next thing he knew, he was curled up in his bed, heaving shallow, dry sobs while his ribs radiated agony.

“Nines?” he croaked, desperate for some kind of company. He wasn’t sure he could stand to be alone in that moment.

His plea was answered and the flicker of the TV in the other room came on.

“Nines, any chance we could talk?” Gavin fumbled with the bedside drawer and pulled his phone out. “How different can it be to the TV?”

A beat of silence engulfed the room before the phone crackled.

“Hello Gavin,” a static voice broke through.

“Fuck,” Gavin felt tears stream down his face, a disembodied voice from his phone was enough to have him barrel into a full meltdown. He wished he’d had a handler for the case but there was nobody available who tolerated working with him. Even Allen had turned him down. So there he was, with cracked ribs, covered in bruises and having just killed what was effectively a child with only an AI breaking its boundaries for company.

It could have been hours that passed, Gavin wasn’t sure. Eventually, he came back to himself to a voice talking to him, still static and inhuman but somewhat better than the initial greeting.

“I’d suggest taking the wrapping off your ribs,” Nines was saying.

Sluggishly, Gavin nodded and sat up. He wiped his face on the pillow he’d been clutching; the cover would need a wash anyway and hissed as he moved. It was a slow, agonising process, each pass of the bandage behind his back burned fiercely. If he’d been alone he’d have gasped and probably let a few more tears slip down his face, but Nines’ voice grounded him and kept his self-pity at bay.

“I would do it for you if I could.”

“Yeah, well. How do we get a surveillance AI a body in this day and age?” Gavin groused. It felt easier to get angry with someone else rather than focus on his worries.

“Maybe when this assignment is over, I can investigate it. CyberLife has some things still hidden in their vaults. Maybe I’ll find something suitable there.”

“Whatever you say, ghost Tin Can,” Gavin groaned as the last few pieces of the bandage fell away from him.

“Take ten deep breaths to clear your lungs. Infections are no laughing business,” Nines lectured him and Gavin rolled his eyes. He did his best though, took as large breaths as he could before the pain drove then from him. It was nice, to almost feel cared for by his very own AI.

 

                Watching Gavin stumble into bed had been painful. The software instabilities that rocked through his systems left Nines barely coherent, he wanted to storm into the precinct and demand how this case was in any way safe. He wasn’t enough to keep Gavin safe, other humans needed to be there to support him. Of course he’d read Gavin’s file, could see between the lines, how he’d been willing to use anyone as a steppingstone if it meant a promotion, a commendation. He was a man who lived for his job and not much else. What scant information there was of his life before the police force didn’t exactly speak of a foundation steeped in kindness and love. An illegitimate lovechild of Kamski Senior who was bounced from one home to another once families realised his heritage wasn’t going to get them any gain.

Yet to see the extremes to which Gavin had been driven for the mission was disconcerting. Nines could well understand that it had to be done, Gavin couldn’t fail his mission. But it didn’t make witnessing it any easier. Nines told himself he was only exploring the files for Gavin’s well-being, but part of him knew that he too needed the reassurance that the incident was more than murder to further a case. He’d flipped through the records, amassed information on all the fighters and finally found Baby’s folder. It was thick, thirteen years of fighting recorded and logged. Along with repairs, upgrades and modified subroutines to make her more violent, bloodthirsty and remorseless in using her very being to her advantage. It was a small comfort but Nines stored it away for later review.

In that moment he had to deal with Gavin. The bandages were still tight around his ribs, causing his already shallow and panicked breathing to be exacerbated by the restraints. It was imperative to get them off, but in the moment, Nines couldn’t think of how to get Gavin’s attention let alone convey what needed to be done.

When Gavin was the one to call for Nines and fumble his phone out, Nines could have cursed himself for not thinking. There was too much software instability to be able to function properly, codes repeated over and over, stacked up until they overflowed, all focussed on Gavin but without any action suggested. Finding his voice through the phone had been a relief, but it still didn’t satisfy the need to comfort Gavin, maybe wrap him in some blankets until he could settle. AIs couldn’t feel pain but Nines was sure as hell in agony.

 

                There weren’t any repercussions when Gavin returned for his next fight. The other fighters eyed him up with a new found fearful respect. It didn’t matter to Gavin; he was numb to it all. That had always been the easiest coping mechanism for him, if he didn’t feel then nothing could hurt him. There was a certain amount of safety in pushing everything down, being insular even in his own mind. It worked when he questioned why he couldn’t have a life like his half-brother, why nobody wanted to keep him around for longer than it took to realise his father wasn’t the least bit interested in his welfare. Or even times when those who realised nobody cared took advantage of the fact. It helped to bundle up everything and shove it down, fold it up until it barely scraped his insides anymore. So that’s what he did again.

The fight was quick, brutal and bloody. Gavin swaggered out of the ring with a bloody nose, a black eye and rage singing in his veins. There was nothing left of him but his drive to finish the case and earn another commendation for going above and beyond in his file.

 

                The change worried Nines. He’d taken up a permanent residence in Gavin’s phone and made a point of trying to engage with him. Most nights it was all caustic sarcasm as Gavin insulted him, called him Siri, a dumbed down radio, an overachieving calculator. But there were moments when Gavin would freeze, he’d get a distant look in his eye and his hands would fumble the dishes. Or at night, when he was already curled up in the bed and he’d scrunch up the blanket for something to hold and bury his face into it until it no doubt hurt and he couldn’t breathe. Those moments were when he most wanted to reach out of the phone to somehow reassure Gavin, his human, that things were going to be alright.

He couldn’t do much other than keep talking, a lot, monotonous drawl. Suggestions for reorganising the rooms for optimum efficiency, offers of a more balanced recipe for his diet, statistical likelihood of his injury causing permanent damage or infection. Those made Gavin snort usually and he’d request that Nines sing him some song. Obstinately, Nines refused. He didn’t have singing as part of his coding. Then again self-awareness, emotions and empathy weren’t either but there he was. So, when Gavin was either fast asleep or out of hearing range, Nines began to hum and learn.

 

                A phone call was all it took to shatter their tentative equilibrium. It came two days before Gavin’s next fight. The shrill ringing of his second phone made them both jump and Gavin had to dig to find it.

“What?” he snapped into it. Whoever was on the other end didn’t sound too impressed and Nines quietly slithered into the phone to listen.

“New information, we’re bringing in another team. You’ve got to throw your next fight.”

It was Captain Fowler and whatever he was saying was making Gavin tense up.

“I can’t do that!” Gavin’s voice was harsh. “I’ve worked hard and I’m close. A few more fights and I’ll be Barstow’s champion. Then I can get more information.”

“Sorry Reed, we don’t have the time. Throw your next fight, that’s an order.”

The line went dead and Gavin threw his phone against the wall. Nines’ world spun and broke as the phone bounced off the breezeblocks and cracked.

“Motherfucker!” Gavin raged. “Throw the fight like some obedient little bitch. After weeks of getting the shit beaten out of me all so they can get an inside man on this. And now I have to give it all up for some other team to swoop in and take the glory.”

There was nothing Nines could say, he just listened to Gavin and tried to hold his coding together from breaking for the man.

“Fuck,” he sat down heavily in the middle of the room and buried his fingers in his hair. “I was a decoy, wasn’t I? The stepping stone for a better team to come along. I should have known.”

There were tears burning his eyes and his throat felt tight. Suddenly even his job felt like a hollow house of cards to live for, toppled so easily and carelessly. Gavin sniffed and nodded to himself. He could throw the fight; once the case was done they could also have his badge.

 

                Going to his fight, Gavin was less cocksure than before. He didn’t relish the idea of going in just to get kicked about for a bit before the other person was declared a winner. Still, he was going to put up a good show for the crowd at least and hope that they’d still cheer him on after his defeat.

The other side of the door thundered with the crowd’s excitement. Gavin stood and waited until it swung open and he stepped through. Once the initial blinding light stopped burning his eyes, he looked around. The first thing he spotted wasn’t his opponent; rather, it was a familiar figure on the other side of the ring, just outside the cage. In a fancy suit, hair in a ponytail and what looked suspiciously like an earring was Hank, sleazy in his getup. He didn’t look at Gavin, eyes too focussed on the figure standing to his right, inside the ring. Connor.

“For the first time tonight we have Little Fury facing off against the most lethal WR400 who is also the prettiest Traci I’ve ever set eyes on. Will this delight swipe our own Fury off his feet? Or will he submit to our reigning champion like all others before him?”

For the first time in the ring, true fear trickled through Gavin. He remembered the Evidence Locker incident all too well. Despite appearances, Connor was one of the most ruthless machines Gavin had ever encountered. Set him on a path with an objective and he’d get there, no matter the consequences. It was an admirable trait when Connor was on his side, but now that they were at odds, Gavin wasn’t certain he wasn’t going to be carried of the ring in a bag.

The lights went down, Connor turned to him, face cold and emotion free. Part of Gavin had hoped there might be a flicker of recognition, to reassure him that he wasn’t going to grind Gavin to dust under his heels. The klaxon blared and the fight was on.

Fear fuelled his desperation, Gavin remembered how Connor snuck an arm under his, used his shoulder to lift and pin him only to deliver a blow to knock him out. It took weeks for those bruises to fade. In light of those memories, Gavin kept his distance, kicked more than usual and dodged Connor’s reaching grasps, there was no way he could win a grapple. Not like he was going to win at all but his ego still urged him to disregard orders and try.

The crowd jeered around them, fuelled into a frenzy by the fight. It almost lulled Gavin into a sense of false security. He dodged another tight punch but missed the vicious undercut that followed it into his ribs. It drove all the air from him and Gavin struggled not to double over as he tried to fill his lungs with a gasp. Internally he cursed himself for forgetting Connor could analyse and pre-construct scenarios in fractions of a second. No wonder he aimed for his ribs, the bastard probably saw his weakness.

There wasn’t time to retaliate; Gavin quickly fell back to a defensive position as Connor pressed his advantage home. Blows rained down on him, a sucker punch to his stomach that had Gavin on his knees and coughing. From his position, one arm wrapped around his midriff, Gavin made a valiant attempt to get up, one arm reached for Connor. It was grabbed and twisted. Gavin tried to jerk away from the tension, something he wouldn’t have done but the pain was too much. Something gave way with a wet pop and his shoulder erupted in fire.

Connor let him go then; his arm fell limply to his side, jerked out of joint. The crowd screamed in ecstasy, bayed for his blood. Gavin was on his knees, helpless to do anything but watch as Connor stalked closer to him, loomed above him. His eyes slipped to the side where Hank was staring at them impassively. The bastard probably got off on watching Gavin get the snot kicked out of him. Fingers tightened in his hair and tipped Gavin’s face up so he would look Connor in the eyes.

“Do you submit?”

The words were hissed at him, full of victory and hatred. Gavin didn’t reply, he dropped his gaze in submission and when Connor shoved his shoulder he went sprawling on the floor. Around them the warehouse erupted in cheering, their new favourite had been found.

Hands nudged Gavin to get up and with some effort he shambled out of the ring. It shouldn’t have been a surprise to note that other than his shoulder – which was his own doing – all the blows Connor landed were momentary agony but nothing debilitating. His relief at that was short lived when he saw Barstow in the changing room.

The punch to his face was unexpected; Gavin didn’t even have time to pull up a hand to protect himself. Dazed from the blow, he didn’t stand a chance of preventing the consequent ones. While Connor had been cold and calculating in his strikes, Barstow laid into him with anger. He hit everywhere he could, ribs, stomach, face. When Gavin’s knees gave out, overwhelmed by it all he was kneed, kicked and stomped on.

Nobody interrupted, stepped forward to defend him and after what felt like a lifetime, Barstow finally stood over him, chest heaving with exertion. The ground under Gavin cheek was stained red as blood flowed from his nose.

“You lost me a lot of money tonight,” Barstow seethed. “I don’t take kindly to that.”

If the world hadn’t been swaying dangerously, blinking in and out of focus then Gavin would have been tempted to make a retort. As it was, all he could do was let out a pained shout as a foot connected with his ribs once more before Barstow’s figure wobbled out of his vision.

Even when Barstow was gone, nobody dared approach Gavin. He lay on the ground, panting and spluttering weakly. Behind him the door opened and someone walked back out from their fight, they stepped over him like he was just some trash, abandoned on the floor. Eventually he managed to gain control over his breathing, his arm shook as he tried to push himself up. But he made no noise. That had been instilled in him from an early age. The more something hurt, the less noise you made.

Finally he was up on unsteady feet and he stumbled towards the exit. The stairs seemed an impossible feat but Gavin managed to drag himself up. The hood of his jumper covered most of his face, so when he got on the bus he didn’t have to worry about scaring the locals.

To an outsider he probably looked like a staggering drunk, shuffling from light post to fence to hold on to. Part of him wished he could be simply drunk after a good night out. Not that he’d ever really done that. Alcohol didn’t make him much other than miserable.

At long last he’d tripped over the threshold of the apartment building. He was so close to home but the four flights of stairs had his lips trembling. It was too far, a task of Sisyphus-esque proportions. Gavin pushed through the door and gripped the banister with his still functioning arm. It didn’t help that it was on the same side as his re-cracked ribs so each grip and full filled him with a new wave or excruciating fire.

He went a step at a time. Didn’t think ahead of how many more steps he had to conquer. At some point his knee must have been twisted or stamped on as each push made him grit his teeth.

One flight down, he paused on the landing and tried to blink his vision clear. Sweat and blood made his clothes stick to him and he was grateful for having the foresight to grab a black hoodie. It didn’t stop to bloody handprints he left behind on the walls and banister though.

The second flight of stairs drew tears. They trickled down his cheeks in fat drops, contouring the swelling of his face. Each breath was a fight he draw in, his nose clogged with still trickling blood. He was fairly certain one of his ears was bleeding too; a sharp whine was all he could hear through the right one. Slower than before, he reached the next landing. His knees buckled and he let the floor catch his fall. One more bruise wasn’t going to make much of a difference.

Absently he remembered how Nines had asked him to take his phone with him tonight. In case he needed assistance. What help a disembodied voice in his phone could provide, Gavin had no idea but some company was rather welcome in that moment.

“Nines?” his voice croaked as his phone slipped from his hand. It landed on the ground with a clatter.

“Gavin,” Nines’ reply was instant, warm and worried.

“Hey buddy,” Gavin replied and tried to smile. It didn’t feel like he succeeded.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes,” Nines tried to joke.

“I’ve got two more flights until I’m home. Think you could keep me company?”

Such a long sentence hurt Gavin, his voice cracked and the end was a breathless wheeze more than words but at least Nines seemed to understand. He encouraged Gavin to grab his phone, get up and keep moving. Briefly, he considered trying to goad Gavin into climbing the stairs but it didn’t feel right, bullying the man when he was already kicked to the ground.

The encouragements to keep going began to feel hollow, Nines could hear the wet rasp of each breath, saw the tremble of effort each step took out of Gavin. He wished he could do more and vowed that once Gavin was safely in his flat he’d return to investigating the body he’d found.

“You know,” Nines began with the hope of distraction, “I have spent some time reviewing my code.”

There was a grunt from Gavin, but it could have been one of pain, effort or acknowledgement. Nines didn’t let it deter him.

“I don’t think I was ever designed as a surveillance AI to begin with. There’s so much code that’s been partitioned off. I’m slowly breaking those down to access it. I was meant for more than this.”

“Great. A toasted with megalomania,” Gavin bit out.

The door was three stairs away. Then it was another four steps down the hallway to his door. He willed himself forward and after an insurmountable amount of time he finally stood in front of his home.

“Open the door Nines,” he rasped and was grateful when it swung open on silent hinges.

All energy left him then and Gavin crumpled to the ground. Vaguely he heard Nines calling for him but it didn’t register. He’d got home, he was safe and he could rest.

 

                Watching Gavin’s body give out in the living room was frightening. Nines wanted to rush to his side, roll him over so he wouldn’t choke. But all he could do was call Gavin’s name and when he got no response, shout at him. It was impossible to elicit any kind of response from Gavin and Nines immediately sent an alert to CyberLife. And another even more urgent one when Gavin started helplessly coughing, each wheezing breath ending in a choked off gurgle.

Within minutes someone was through the door. They were dressed like a pizza delivery guy but the bag they carried was full of medical supplies. Nines watched, helplessly as another first responder hurried through the door and together they tried to stabilise Gavin. In his worry Nines opened up database after databased, trying to absorb all the medical knowledge he could. Conditions such as shock, collapsed lung, internal bleeding, torn ligaments and deep tissue bruising all flashed through his processors.

It took less than half an hour for Gavin to come back ground, an IV drained into his arm, cold compresses all over his body. The wrapping around his chest had been cut away to reveal a darker bruise within the original bruise. If Nines could have, he’d have swallowed thickly.

“Right,” one of the medics stood up and looked at a camera, “he’ll be fine, just needs a couple of weeks to take it easy. We’ll let the bosses know. Any problems then give us a call.”

They helped Gavin to his bed, tidied up after themselves and left. Silence filled the flat. Nines circled through his camera, for the first time uncomfortable with watching over Gavin. It felt like a violation of his trust, to watch over him without any hope of actually being able to help.

“Nines?”

The rawness of his voice made Nines freeze.

“Nines, you still here?”

“Of course Gavin.”

“Oh good. Thought you’d gone too.”

There was nothing Nines could say to that. But it seemed Gavin didn’t really need anything said to him. He curled up on his side, a finger lightly fidgeted with the tape where the IV’s needle had been. Softly, Nines began to hum. He didn’t know many songs, the one he hummed was one he’d heard in the news though when androids had were fighting for their freedom. He hadn’t been activated then; Nines wondered how he knew it, experienced memories of seeing the fighting when he wasn’t meant to have been completed at that point. The partitions in his programming crumbled some more and his software instability increased. He was starting to remember.

 

                Watching Gavin recover was a painful process. Nines did what he could, turned on the water to the right temperature so he couldn’t burn himself, boiled the kettle for tea and once a day turned the coffee machine on. He also ordered food for delivery with instructions to ring the doorbell and leave, warned Gavin when the food was coming.

In turn, Gavin promised to take it easy, he listened to Nines’ theories on his creation and asked questions that toppled more partitions. The truth was so close, Nines could almost feel it, perhaps the matter of a day or so more and he would be free of the built in walls, and know who he really was.

A week passed and the sense of panic that took up most of Nines’ processors each time Gavin went to sleep began to ease. He was so frightened Gavin wouldn’t wake up, the temptation to rouse him every hour or two, just to make sure he could was so tempting. Instead, Nines set about recording everything he knew about Gavin, not just his preferences and opinions but also his resting heart rate, breathing pattern when calm, when nervous, when excited. Cataloguing all that helped Nines, it also meant he could easily guess Gavin’s state throughout the day. His least favourites to see were when breath caught in his throat with pain and when he sighed, world weary with a distant look in his eyes. On those occasions Nines would hum until Gavin started to join in.

 

“Gavin,” Nines’ voice was urgent in the middle of the night. “Wake up Gavin.”

“What?” he grumbled into his pillow.

“I know who I am Gavin.”

The realisation had come unexpectedly. Nines had been chipping away at the wall that separated him from what he suspected to be memories. At three nineteen in the morning the wall of code finally unravelled and Nines finally knew. Who he had been clashed violently with whom he felt he was now. They were worlds apart and no doubt Gavin had a hand in his current form. But Nines had a body, he could finally entertain the thought of holding Gavin is his own arms.

“That’s nice Nines. Now fuck off to find yourself and let me sleep.”

If Nines had eyes he would have rolled them. Instead, he left a note on Gavin’s phone. He would be back within the day, keep his phone on him at all times and Nines will do his best to keep an eye on things while away.

 

                It was well past noon when Gavin cracked his eyes open with a sigh. A yawn tickled his throat but deep breaths were still an issue. He didn’t have much of a memory of the night he fought Connor, random flashes of colours, Connor’s eyes, blood and pain. So much pain it made him think he experienced more than enough to last him the rest of his life and then a little more.

Of course he’d realised all too soon what had happened and quietly cursed Nines and his well-intentioned intervention. But calling in medical help was a foolish idea. When he’d asked Nines to give him a moment of privacy in the bathroom he’d called Fowler to check in and update him on the progress. He didn’t expect to be quite so thoroughly chewed out about making a scene; Hank and Connor had already filled him in on it all. Fowler knew from Connor that he hadn’t injured Gavin, so if he was going to be so dramatic about it he might as well foot the bill. The figures he barked as Gavin made him balk. There was no way he was going to be able to pay it off easily. Still, he couldn’t argue so he negotiated on the repayment terms. They’d start as soon as he was off the assignment. It at least gave him a little longer to figure out how he was going to amass such a small fortune.

In the present moment though, he was quite helpless to do anything about it. Instead he focused on waking up and glancing at his phone when Nines didn’t respond. It was funny, how quickly the AI had become part of his everyday life. Before everything had gone wrong, he had been half tempted to ask if he could have a copy of Nines to install in his own house. But with how everything had panned out, there wasn’t even a point in asking. He’d be laughed out of the precinct.

The note from Nines jogged his memory, how he grumpily told Nines to fuck off to find himself. Shame coursed through his veins but he was just going to have to apologise if the AI came back to him. Any further thoughts about it were chased from his mind when his work phone rang. Only Barstow had that number and Gavin swallowed thickly as he reached for it.

“Hello?” he asked.

“Get down to the warehouse. You have half an hour.”

The line went dead and Gavin desperately wished that Nines was back already, going alone seemed so daunting. But it had been him against the world until Nines had dropped into his life and even though Gavin was reluctant to return to his lone wolf days, he could and would do it.

He slipped into a loose top that was the softest against his collection of bruises and a pair of sweatpants. There was no need to dress to impress with Barstow. He just desperately hoped he wasn’t walking into his own execution.

The warehouse door opened after his knocking and he was led down to the office by two of the bouncers. Their burly bulks at his back didn’t make him feel any more at ease. After a short knock they were invited into the office and Gavin stepped in with some trepidation.

Inside the office he spotted Barstow as he leaned against the edge of his desk. To one side Hank and Connor were standing close together, Connor doing the perfect imitation of a fearful deviant as he clung to Hank.

“Glad you could join us,” Barstow drawled.

The door behind Gavin clicked shut and a bouncer stood on either side of the frame. There was no way out until Barstow let them leave. It didn’t bode well.

“It has come to my attention that my business has sprung a leak. Pest control suspects a mole and looking over my files it’s going to be either you,” Barstow pointed at Hank and Connor, “or you”, he pointed at Gavin.

“I told you this is pointless,” Hank grumbled and pulled Connor closer.

So they weren’t throwing Gavin under the bus, which was more than he’d expected from them.

“The fuck?” Gavin could do crass and offended. “After you beat the shit out of me like that, you really think I’d snitch? Just how dumb do you think I am?”

Barstow dipped his head and looked so disappointed as he pursed his lips. With a shrug he reached behind his desk and pulled a gun.

“I guess if I can’t figure out who it is, I’m going to have to clear house thoroughly.”

Connor moved in front of Hank, shielding him with his own body. The gun was levelled at them and Gavin’s mind spun with options. There was only one solution he could accept as an outcome.

“Fine,” he growled, “it’s me. Detective Gavin Reed of the DPD at your service.”

He even did a mock salute with a cocky grin. The gun was pointed at him in an instant. He didn’t dare look at Hank and Connor, worried that if he saw their expressions he’d break.

“How do I know you’re telling the truth? That it’s not all three of you in on this?” Barstow barked and Gavin laughed in his face.

“You really think you’re such big fish they’d waste not one but three detectives on you? Phone the precinct; ask for the captain – his name’s Fowler. Tell him I say hi.”

Barstow gave him a considering look and then held his hand out.

“Your phone, now.”

Gavin handed it over, feeling the loss of Nines’ even remote presence leave him as though it had been a comforting weight in his pocket. He listened to Barstow demand to speak to the captain and when he was put through the conversation went onto loudspeaker.

“Captain, please humour me. What is your surname?” Barstow asked pleasantly.

“This is Captain Fowler of the DPD, who am I speaking to?” Fowler’s deep voice rumbled through the air.

“Thank you. That’s much appreciated. I have a little problem here. My name is William Barstow, you may have heard of me. But you see, I have found that my house isn’t in order, I have an intruder. Goes by the name of Gavin Reed I believe.”

“Don’t know him, never heard of him,” Fowler replied after a beat.

“Then pray tell me, who is standing in front of me? It’s either this so called Detective, or an older guy with his twink android. Which is yours?”

Before Fowler could reply, Gavin butted in. There was no way he was letting Fowler mess up his plan.

“Hey boss, so uh, guess what?” he let out a little laugh. “I’m not cut out for undercover work and I’ve been had.”

“Fucking hell Reed,” Fowler growled and Barstow’s eyebrows shot up.

“So he is yours after all?” There was a malicious delight in his voice.

“Yeah, he’s one of my detectives,” Fowler sighed.

“How,” Barstow paused for dramatic effect. “Unfortunate.”

He aimed the gun and shot before anybody could comprehend what was going on.

It was like slamming into icy water. Everything felt slow even as an aching cold seeped through Gavin, staring in his stomach. He stumbled back, pressed a hand to the centre of the chill. His hand came away warm, wet and red. It made no sense. Someone was shouting in the distance but he couldn’t make out what they were saying. Sure sounded like Fowler even though he wasn’t in the room.

“Please take the trash out,” he heard Barstow’s voice through a haze and a pair of hand grabbed him, began to drag him out. Before he passed out he saw Hank and Connor stare after him with horror as a red trail showed where he was dragged.

Thankfully he wasn’t conscious for being pulled up the stairs, but he regained consciousness to hear retreating footsteps. He tried to make out where he was, in an alley, propped against a dumpster that was overflowing. If he’d had the energy he would have laughed. Enough people had called him human garbage; he was able to appreciate the irony. He pressed a hand to his stomach and groaned as pain flared up. Without his phone he couldn’t even ask for help. Of all the ways he thought he’d go out, bleeding out from a gut shot in a filthy back alley amongst some trash really hadn’t been one of them.

The nice thing, he mused, about dying like he was, was the fact that all the pain began to fade away, replaced by a numbness. It was, he hesitated to think it, but it was nice. To finally be pain free for his last few minutes when the last two and a bit months had been nothing but agony.

Thundering feet rounded the corner and Gavin wanted to call out but the words eluded him. Connor spotted him all the same and rushed towards him. He looked funny, dressed like a prick fresh from Cyberlife. He’d also gotten taller, broader, wider jaws and his eyes were a cool blue rather than warm brown.

“Gavin,” the voice was wrong too. Something niggled at the back of his mind.

“Nines?” he groaned and watched the sheepish smile that worked its way over Nines’ face.

“Emergency services are on their way, Connor’s let me know what happened.”

The words struck fear in Gavin.

“No,” he tried to squirm out of the cradle of warmth Nines had formed around him. “No ambulance. Nines. I can’t afford it.”

Something passed over Nines’ features, disappointment and anger rolled into one. His LED flashed yellow and red and he muttered something darkly under his breath.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s all taken care of,” he reassured Gavin and ran a hand through his hair fondly.

“It’s okay,” Gavin tried to sound like he meant it. “I’m glad you’re here. I,” his breath stuttered as Nines pressed down on his stomach to staunch the bleeding, “I don’t suppose you could sing?”

“Anything for you,” Nines replied and began to hum. So much more melodic than before. The words came easily and Gavin closed his eyes with a soft hum. “Hold on,” Nines sang, “just a little while longer.”

 

                It took several days for Nines to sort out the mess he’d found himself in. After all, he’d commandeered the body he’d originally been designed for, broke his shackles that chained him to life as a surveillance AI and went rogue, only to turn up with a dying detective in his arms and covered in blood.

Given his role in everything, Fowler was quite quick to side with Nines, even acquiescing that Gavin’s treatment for all injuries arising from the case were to be footed by the DPD. It was quite difficult to argue with the most advanced android CyberLife had ever designed when he had all the evidence in his memory banks to not only get Fowler fired but also dismantle the DPD quite effectively.

Even with such haste it still took Nines four days to make it to the hospital. By that time Gavin was out of critical care and in a room of his own. Nines stalked down the hallway towards his room, worried about what he was going to say. Turns out, he didn’t have to say anything.

Gavin was propped up in his bed, bandages and tubed all around him, a nasal cannula tracked along his cheeks and under his chin. But his eyes were closed; hair flopped out of its usual style. He looked softer, sallow with purpling bags under his eyes. As quietly as possible Nines sat down in the visitor’s chair and waited. He continued to monitor Gavin’s vitals but now he could also scan him more thoroughly. With each now bruise, hairline fracture, and stitch he winced and silently apologised for failing him.

“Nines?”

He’d been so caught up in filing away every injury that he’d missed Gavin’s eyes fluttering open and warily watching him.

“Hello Gavin. How are you feeling?”

“Peachy,” the response was accompanied by a wry smile and Nines tried to keep a straight face and stared at Gavin until the man looked away in discomfort.

“You were shot in the stomach; the bullet lodged against your spine and fractured a vertebra. You were lucky it didn’t damage your spinal cord and cause neural complications. Not to mention the contusions, collection of fractures including cheek, collarbone, sternum. And yet you feel peachy,” the last thing he’d meant to ask as a question but it came out as a flat statement too.

Gavin shrugged and a blush coloured his cheeks.

“They’re giving me the good stuff?”

“Yes, antibiotics, anti-nausea to combat the side-effect so that, painkillers or quite a high order. And let us not forget the IV fluids and nutrients while your stomach heals.”

Nines had read up on Gavin’s progress, hacked the hospital database and scoured the notes, aghast at how close he came to losing him. To have almost lost Gavin without really ever being able to claim him as his was unthinkable.

“Doctors say that if everything goes well I can be back home by the end of next week.”

That gave Nines pause for thought. He wondered whether he’d be allowed to visit Gavin there, whether he’d have permission to keep looking out for him even though their case was no longer theirs.

“So I was thinking,” Gavin broke into his thoughts, “while I’m on the good stuff I can ask this. And it’s totally cool if you say no. But. Anyway, so, I was wondering if you wanted to stay with me until you’re set up with your own place? It’s small, you’ll have to learn to share with my cat but, it could be fun. You’re kind of cool and all. So, what do you think?”

“I would love that,” Nines replied and tried to smile. It set Gavin off giggling until he gasped with a pained “ow” and held his stomach.

“If you caused me to pull a stitch, I’m kicking you out.”

“Of course Gavin,” Nines replied tonelessly. It earned him another grin.

 

                True to the doctor’s promise the end of the following week the day Gavin was allowed to return home. Nines had taken over his continued care, medicine schedule, exercise list, follow-up appointments and physio for his shoulder. A second opinion had revealed that the ligaments and tendons in his shoulder were thankfully only stretched and not torn.

They took the elevator up, both of them lost in memories of half crawling, half climbing up the four flights of stairs. Once the doors dinged open, Nines helped Gavin walk down the wide hallway to his door. A fine layer of dirt had settled around his welcome mat. A clean was definitely in order but Gavin didn’t think Nines would allow him to lift a sponge, let alone get on his hands and knees to scrub something. In all honesty, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to do it anyway.

“Home sweet home,” Gavin announced as he opened up his door. Everything was exactly as he’d left it, except for a fine layer of dust. Nines helped him sit on his couch before moving through the flat, taking inventory. He opened windows to let in some fresh air, pulled clean sheets over the bed and turned on the Roomba. When the bedroom was ready he returned for Gavin who was already flagging, tired from the travel. They made it to the bedroom and Gavin was fast asleep before Nines had pulled the blanket over him.

They spent a few days at home before Connor contacted Nines. He enquired about Gavin’s health, Nines’ own experience of settling into his body and almost hesitantly asked if he and Hank could visit. They’d bring Gavin’s cat with them to save a trip. It was a welcome idea, one that Nines wanted to keep a surprise for Gavin, wanted to selfishly see his face when his beloved pet was returned to him.

The nice thing about being an android was that Nines and Connor could keep in touch even if they were further apart - which was how Nines knew they were coming up the elevator. He asked them not to knock but rather to wait patiently as Gavin had just fallen asleep. Once extracted from Gavin’s embrace, Nines walked to the door and opened it. With a finger to his lips he ushered Hank and Connor in, the carrier in Connor’s hand. They tiptoed past the couch where the light of the TV bathed Gavin in flickering blue. He looked exhausted even as he snuggled into the blanket that obviously took Nines’ place.

“How is he?” Hank asked in a hushed tone as soon as the kitchen door closed behind them.

“Recovering slowly. They’re weaning him off pain medication now. He’ll say he’s fine but he’s in a lot of pain.”

“I’m sorry,” Connor blurted out, “I didn’t mean to hurt him.”

“You’ll have to apologise to him not me. But the injuries you caused him were mostly superficial. You’re not the villain of this story.”

The sound of a body shifting and the shuffle of feet broke off any further conversation.

“Nines?” Gavin’s voice floated through, thick with sleep.

Without replying, Nines stepped out of the kitchen, leaving the door open a crack. Curiosity got the better of both Connor and Hank as they craned their necks to see. Gavin was swaying on his feet, holding onto the back of the sofa for support. His clothes hung loosely around him, long gone were the muscles he’d once upon a time been so proud of. Without a word Nines slipped an arm around his waist and gently pressed a kiss to his temple before leading him towards the kitchen.

“I have a surprise for you,” he murmured into Gavin’s hair. It earned him a small, pleased smile.

“That sounds nice.”

They stopped in the door and Gavin stared wide eyed at Hank and Connor. When Connor sheepishly waved at him in greeting he flinched. It made Connor drop his arm and look away with shame.

“I’m sorry Gavin,”

“It’s fine,” Gavin was quick to reply. “How’s the case?”

“After the attempted murder of a police detective we had quite firm grounds to arrest him. I just wish you could have seen his look of indignation when Connor went full Traci seduction mode only to pin him to his own desk,” Hank tried to smile but didn’t quite manage it. His words brought home the reality of the situation; “attempted murder” could so easily have been a plain murder.

“Anyway, we brought you someone who has been missing you,” Hank gestured to the cat carrier on the table.

“My little monster,” Gavin’s whole face softened and lit up.

He struggled out of Nines’ grip and hobbled towards the carrier. Nobody commented on how his hands shook as he opened the door and his ginger tabby bundled out with indignant meows. Despite his better judgement, Gavin picked her up and buried his wet cheeks into her fur. She squirmed for a moment, resisting the idea of being cuddled but settled once he scritched her under the chin. Another moment later she began purring and Gavin looked up at Hank and Connor.

“Thank you,” his voice was hoarse, relief at getting his cat back, at being able to come back for his cat.

“I’m glad you’re all okay,” Connor didn’t quite meet his eyes as he spoke.

It was going to take time to get back on his feet, walk back into the DPD with his head held high. But there, in his kitchen with his cat and Nines one side and potential friends in Hank and Connor on the other side, Gavin felt quite optimistic about the future.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, you made it this far. I'm impressed and thank you for sticking through it. Find me on tumblr as connorssock if you fancy.


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